Nerves of Steele
by Obsidian Nexus
Summary: Alex Steele has just managed to survive Reach, one of the worst defeats in the history of the UNSC. As he awakens from a short coma, he finds that the situation has only gotten worse. The Pillar of Autumn has fled blindly into space, coming to a mysterious ring-world known only as Halo. As Alex continues his grim fight for survival, he finds himself tested as never before.
1. Boarding Action

–**Nerves of Steele–**

A Novella by Obsidian Nexus

**Chapter 01  
**_-Boarding Action-_

There was nothing quite like the sensation of time snapping forward. The closest Alex Steele could come to describing it, even to himself, inside his own head, was that it was like watching a movie, and someone hit the skip scene button. One second, you're moving along at a nice, even pace, everything makes sense, then, suddenly, without warning, you're in a new place, there's new characters and obviously a lot has gone on, but you have no idea what.

Merely seconds ago, he had been in the back of a Pelican, making for the only ship left in town, the _Pillar of Autumn_. He'd been hurt badly, some bastard Elite had hit him in the guts with the tip of his plasma dagger, and consciousness was a precarious thing, fading in and out with darkness boiling at the edges of his vision.

He remembered a medic, telling him it was going to be all right.

He remembered other Marines, guys who had made it, too.

He remembered wondering if Reach was going to be glassed into oblivion.

Then, suddenly, he snapped forward like his ass had been sunk into a giant sling in the time stream. He was suddenly opening his eyes to a sterile, white ceiling with a grim, frowning, stubble-stained man standing over him.

"Get _up_, Private!"

In the background, Alex could hear the sound of someone, a woman, speaking over a communications system. The world swam in and out of focus, and he was dying of thirst. Alex opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a dry croak.

"Shit," the man muttered, disappearing.

Left to his own devices, Alex tried to make sense of the world. His mind felt like it was wrapped in wool. A mental fog, thick and cloying, had descended across the topography of his brain. Thoughts were muddled and mired in confusion. Notions came slowly and he was beginning to suspect that a lot of him was in pain.

He tried to move, but that only sent a lance of white-hot suffering through his guts. It corkscrewed up his torso and dead-ended in his head in a dazzling display of agony. Alex groaned thickly and tried to reach up to massage his aching skull.

There was something attached to his arm.

"What happened?" he managed.

The man reappeared. He cupped a moist hand beneath Alex's neck and lifted him up slightly, while simultaneously bringing a canteen to his lips. Alex drank instinctively, but downed too much and began coughing. A spray of cold water drizzled across his torso and it was only then that he realized he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"You were in a coma, Steele. We're under attack, or about to be. I'm the guy they sent to wake your ass up. Now get _moving_, Marine!"

The words, the tone of voice, the promise of attack, it all worked together to reactivate Private Alex Steele. He felt a jolt of military electricity shoot through his system and some small part of him was praising every miserable second of every miserable day he'd spent shoving his ass through Basic. It had kept him alive, so far.

Alex sat up, fighting a wave of pain and disorientation that did a slow roll through him. He was in an infirmary. What had the man said? A coma? As he swung his feet slowly over the side of what he realized was an examination table, a new memory surfaced. As if stabbing him wasn't enough, the Elite had punched him solidly in the helmet. He remembered thinking that there was likely a very nasty dent in the thing.

The thing in his arm. Alex looked down, saw a needle taped to his arm, feeding him life-giving liquids. He pulled it out.

"Here," the man said, and tossed Alex a standard issue uniform.

His fingers betrayed him and he dropped the thing. Cursing slightly, Alex stood on unsteady feet, knelt and retrieved the uniform. He began pulling it up. His head began to throb and his stomach felt tender, every movement causing him pain.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"No idea," the man said. "The _Pillar_ jumped blindly. We could be anywhere. But the Covenant followed us from Reach."

Reach. What had happened to it? Probably the worst. He decided he didn't want to know. Reach had been bad. As he finished pulling the uniform on, Alex heard the shipwide intercom click on once more.

"_Attention all personnel, we are reengaging the enemy. External and internal contact imminent."_ There was something slightly off about the voice, something at the absolute edge of subtle that danced away from Alex as he tried to grasp it.

Then he had it. An AI.

"Here," the man said.

This time he tossed some combat boots, and Alex caught them. He knelt, tugged the boots on and laced them up tight.

"Who are you?" he asked as he stood back up.

"Sergeant Parks," the man replied.

At least that explained the man's gruffness. Everyone else was off preparing for combat and here he was waking up some lazy Marine.

Alex straightened up. "Ready to go, Sergeant."

Parks looked at him, a frown etched into his face. He glanced back at the door out, then back at Alex, then at the examination table. Something was bugging him.

"Lay back down on that table," he said.

Alex hesitated, but laid back down. As he did, the entire area shuddered as something no doubt powerful and heavy smashed into the ship.

They were officially under attack.

Parks came to stand next to the examination table. He quickly began working the controls mounted onto the side of the table. A soft hum started resonating from within the metal and Alex felt the table vibrate ever-so-slightly beneath him.

"I meant to run a medical scan on you, make sure you don't die halfway down the corridor. But I got caught up in grabbing you a uniform," Parks explained.

More tremors rippled through the area. Both men shifted uneasily. Alex glanced around the infirmary. It was utterly void of life and looked as if it had been heavily used at one point. The counters were littered with empty medical kits and some of the examination tables had pillows and blankets or discarded clothes on them.

The litany of war, the aftermath of combat.

The table let out a small chime.

Parks grunted. "Okay, you're up to snuff, far as I can tell. Grab some painkillers and we'll be on our way."

Alex stood, grateful for order, and crossed to a medical cabinet. His mind was whirling, a million questions flying around. Where were they? How many Covenant were waiting for them? Did they even have a hope in hell of getting out of this one alive?

None of that mattered at the moment. What really mattered was getting some armor and a gun and painting the walls with some weird-colored blood. Everything else could wait. Alex found a medical kit, cracked it open and downed a trio of extra-strength painkillers with another swig from the canteen. He popped his neck and turned to face Parks.

"Okay, I'm ready."

As he said this, both men suddenly heard shouting and plasma fire out in the corridor beyond. Parks only had his pistol on him, holstered. He motioned for Alex to move to cover as the battle intensified. Parks made for the door, pulling his pistol out. The silver metal glinted in the light and Alex felt naked without a weapon as he fell back.

Suddenly, the noise outside died.

Parks advanced on the door. Alex felt his pain fade away into the background as his combat senses readied him for a struggle of life or death. Parks had nearly made it to the door when, abruptly, it opened up. An Elite, clad in purple armor, shimmering slightly with its personal energy shield, stepped into the room.

It raised its plasma rifle as Parks raised his pistol.

Gunfire and energy flared.

Alex saw Parks dive sideways as he emptied the magazine, the force of the individual bullets from the M6D sending the Elite stumbling back. It tracked him with its plasma rifle, mandibles twitching in combat ecstasy, and fired as its shield overloaded and died. Blue-white flares filled the room. Parks' body was forcibly shoved backwards. He crashed into a medical cart, toppling it and sending various medical instruments flying.

The Elite looked at Alex.

There was no time, none at all. Alex had counted the shots. Parks had emptied the magazine and there was no time to somehow find a fresh mag and reload. He had nothing on him. Not even a combat knife.

Something caught Alex's eye, a glint at his feet.

He dropped as the Elite fired, plasma bolts washing over his head. Alex scooped up the scalpel. He knew that if he was going to do this, it had to be faster than lightning. He dove forward, tucking himself into a ball and rolling, trying to avoid stabbing himself. As Alex righted himself, he saw he'd calculated correctly.

He was at the eight and a half foot bastard's feet.

The thing's shields were still down, recharging. Alex snapped up, reared back with the scalpel and drove the tip of the blade directly into the thing's black eye. The Elite let out a howl of agony and shoved him away, dropping its plasma rifle in the process. Alex grunted as he fell to the ground, briefly worried it hadn't been enough.

But the damage was done.

The Elite roared wildly as it clawed at the scalpel plunged into its eyes and thick, purple blood leaked down its face. It turned towards him, as though it had fought through the pain, if only momentarily, and now intended to wreak a horrible revenge. Alex felt his blood run cold as it took two steps towards him.

Then its feet caught on Parks' body and it began toppling forward. Alex barely managed to roll out of the way. The Elite fell right on its face, which forced the scalpel the rest of the way in, hitting its brain. The big alien stopped moving instantly.

"Shit," Alex breathed, shaky with adrenaline.

He climbed to his feet, walked over to Parks' body, knelt and retrieved the pistol. Another moment of uncomfortable searching turned up a pair of magazines. He pocketed one, ejected the spent mag from the pistol and slipped the second one in. Searching the dead body of a fellow Marine was something Alex was never going to completely get over.

He straightened up and his eyes fell on the Elite's plasma rifle. He crossed the infirmary, knelt and grabbed it. The charge put it up at around three-quarters. Alex hesitated, feeling like he was forgetting something. Glancing back at Parks' body, his eyes fell on the man's belt and holster. Alex turned and hurried back over.

He relieved the Sergeant of his belongings, slipping the belt in and fitting the holster onto it. After a moment's indecision, he finally clipped the plasma rifle to the belt and opted to use the pistol. It was the better of the two.

Alex moved out into the corridor, his movements cautious, adrenaline singing in his veins. The _Autumn_ shuddered several times as more things slammed into it. Distantly, echoing down the corridors towards him, were the sounds of conflict: plasma fire, gunshots, screaming, hysterically shouted orders. An alien virus had been loosed into the metal guts of the _Pillar of Autumn_. The Covenant had come, and there would be no mercy.

A handful of corpses occupied the corridor. Three Marines and a half-dozen Grunts. Blood sprayed the walls, pooled on the floor. Shell casings were crushed underfoot. Alex looked at the Marine corpses. Green Ballistics armor glinted in the stark light of the corridor. He frowned. It was no armory, but it would have to do.

Hurrying over to the nearest body, Alex quickly began to transfer the dead man's armor to his own body, feeling the mounting tension of time in between his shoulder blades. At any moment, some asshole alien could stroll right into the corridor and put him down with a bolt to the head. The questions, the worries, the terror began to crowd in around him once more as he pulled on the armor. With some effort, he shoved them aside again.

Alex finished by securing the helmet. He activated the radio and immediately a babble of voices filled his head. Glancing down as he listened in, trying to make some sense of the chaos, his eyes fell on an MA5B. He abandoned the plasma rifle in favor of the assault rifle and spent the next few moments hunting for spare magazines.

By the time he straightened up, ready to punch deeper into the ship, he had gleaned a general feel from all the comms chatter going on over the general network. The short of it was that they were probably screwed. The Covenant had invaded the ship in force and everyone was staring down the business-end of a plasma weapon.

But the situation might yet be salvageable. Already, Alex felt a lot closer to alive than dead. His aches had eased, the throbbing in his head had dulled and the meds were going to work. He was just going to have to trust Parks and the medical computer's readout that he wasn't going to die. He'd been stabbed fatally and had his skull nearly crushed, on top of a coma, and now he was up and running around, fighting bad guys again.

Alex made his way to the end of the corridor, alone for now, working his way towards the nearest sounds of conflict.


	2. Punching Out

**Chapter 02  
**_-Punching Out-_

The first sign that Alex was nearing a firefight was when a bullet ricocheted off the bulkhead ahead of him and hit him straight in the chestplate. He grunted, stumbled back a step, but held his ground. He made a mental note to be a little more careful, moved to the left wall and kept going towards a T junction up ahead.

The sounds of conflict were coming from the left. He could hear all the old familiar noises: the shout of an Elite in a guttural, alien tongue; a hail of gunfire; the whine of a plasma rifle; the startled, frantic yaps of Grunts.

It got his blood pumping, adrenaline singing through his veins. Alex took a deep breath and let it out, his pistol out now, as he always felt more comfortable with it. The M6D was one powerful son of a bitch. Alex edged right up to the corner and peered cautiously around it. He spied a pair of Elites and a half-dozen Grunts pinning down a handful of Marines further down the corridor. The Covenant had their backs to him.

Perfect.

Alex smirked as he leveled his pistol at the back of one of the Elites. He flicked on the 2x zoom and began squeezing the trigger. The element of surprise gave him enough leverage to get off two shots before the Covenant reacted to him. The Grunts all let out startled screams and the Elites whirled to face him.

Alex fired off another two shots and overloaded the Elite's shield. It let out a howl of fury, leveled its plasma rifle at him and loosed a barrage of bright blue-white plasma. Alex pulled back, barely in time, feeling the immense heat as the bolts traveled mere inches in front of his head. As he had hoped, he heard a gunshot and the slump of a body.

One of the Marines had taken advantage of the sudden distraction. With the Covenant momentarily distracted again, Alex peered cautiously around the corner. A fresh Elite corpse lay on the ground, a pool of dark purple blood widening from its ruined head. The surviving alien warrior had turned its attention back to the Marines.

Good. Alex began head-shotting the Grunts, taking them out one by one, eliminating its back up. They all let out sharp barks of surprise and pain as their little masked heads snapped back. He emptied his magazine as the last Grunt fell. The Elite seemed caught for a moment, uncertain whether to attack the Marines or Alex.

Ultimately, it was still hidden behind a few crates on Alex's side of the corridor. It crouched, put its back to the crates and leveled the plasma rifle at him. Alex cursed and fell back behind cover, hitting the eject button and letting the spent magazine clatter to the floor. He slammed a new one in and wished vainly for a grenade.

Even just one would have helped.

Alex peered cautiously around the corner, hoping to catch some kind of initiative. Which was good, because it sidetracked the Elite once more as one of the other Marines down the corridor decided to take some initiative of his own.

The unnamed Marine rushed up to the crates the Elite was crouching behind and slammed into them full force. One of the crates came loose and fell directly atop the alien warrior, trapping it. The Elite began trashing about, but the Marine didn't give it a chance, leveling a shotgun at the thing's head and firing twice.

When he raised his shotgun back up, all that was left was a bloody stump.

"All clear!" he called.

Alex emerged from his hiding space and walked up to the Marine. He saw another coming to join them.

"Just you two?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, everyone else was taken down in the fight. It was a bit of an ambush. We're lucky we got out alive. Name's Carson," the Marine who'd smashed the Elite said.

"Jones," the second man said.

Alex sized them up, as they were likely going to be his fighting buddies for the next stretch of time. Carson looked solid, one of the bulkier Marines Alex had come across lately. His brown eyes looked hardened with dozens of battles.

Jones was smaller, skinnier, his skin pale. Everything about him spoke of the unique stage Marines seemed to enter a couple of months after Basic, when they realized that they might actually be just as badass as their uniform made them feel.

It was also the most likely time they'd get wasted by some asshole Elite or a lucky Grunt or Jackal. High on their own false immortality, it made them careless and arrogant. As expected, Jones' nametag put him at Private First Class.

Carson was a Lance Corporal.

"I guess you're the boss," Alex said.

Carson frowned, then looked for Alex's own nametag, which he'd never had time to recover. "What rank are you?"

"Private."

"I don't believe you, you're too collected and professional to be green," Carson replied flatly.

Alex sighed. "I've done three years. I was a Corporal, but I got into a fight with my Sergeant over some civvies...they bumped me back down to Private. Now, either we can stand around talking about my lame-ass career, or we can get going to the bridge."

"The bridge?" Jones asked.

"Yes. That's where the Captain and the bigwigs typically hang out. I'd rather this ship _didn't_ fall into enemy hands," Alex replied.

"Sounds reasonable enough, but-" Carson paused as the intercom clicked on once more and a fresh announcement sounded.

"_Attention all hands, this is the Captain. Prepare to abandon ship. Combat teams, repel boarders until top personnel are away. Good Luck! Keyes out."_

"Well...I guess we aren't going to the bridge," Jones murmured.

"Repel boarders...we could do that while we head to an escape pod, I suppose," Alex said, suddenly eager to be off the ship.

When the Captain called for an abandon ship, typically it didn't take long for things to go from worse to lethal.

"Anyone know the way there?" Carson asked, looking for Alex to Jones.

"No, I barely got my ass out of the fires on Reach. This isn't my ship," Jones said.

"Me too," Alex replied.

Carson sighed. "Same here. Well, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out. Steele, you go first, I've got your back."

Alex hesitated momentarily, then nodded. As Lance Corporal, he expected Carson to take the lead. Of course, it could just be that he wanted someone other than himself out on point. But...no, that didn't feel right. Carson seemed like a solid Marine, the kind of guy more likely to stay behind and cover your ass than run and save his own.

So maybe he trusted Alex more because he'd once been a Corporal, a rank above him. Either way, Alex nodded, shouldered his rifle and began moving down the passageway. He had a very rough idea of how the typical starship was laid out, so it shouldn't be _too_ difficult to track down some escape pods. They were all over the ship, as it was.

Alex led the way to the end of the corridor, locking his senses back down and sharpening up. Death was hidden behind every corner. With Carson and Jones at his back, he led the way. Alex edged up to the corner and peered cautiously around. Nothing but a long, lonely stretch of hallway, though he could hear the telltale sounds of the Covenant somewhere up ahead. The trio came around the corner and hustled down the hall, doing their best to keep silent. Alex felt a slow, dull pain building in his head as he progressed.

Not a good sign. How long until the painkillers wore off? He shoved the pain aside ruthlessly, as he'd learned to do with varying states of success during his three year career. It wasn't easy and it was only a temporary solution.

Alex held up his fist as they neared the end of another corridor. The Marines behind him froze. He knelt and stared down the sights of his rifle. There were Covenant nearby, _very_ nearby, just around the next corner.

Their alien voices were getting louder. He heard the yaps of Grunts and one Elite voice, barking commands. Alex licked his lips in anticipation. He felt hate, like liquid fire, boil through his guts. There was a slight tap on his shoulder. He risked a glance back and saw Carson offering him a fragmentation grenade.

Alex grinned darkly, took it and pulled the pin, holding the primer down to delay the fuse. He waited for the perfect moment, listening to the patrol drawing nearer, then he hurled the grenade. It hit the far wall and bounced into the next corridor. There were several startled, high-pitched shrieks and about half of a loud, startled roar from the Elite.

Then everything disappeared in a thunderclap of sound, fury and metal fragments. As the last of the fragments finished bouncing around, Alex leaped around the corner, leveled his assault rifle and squeezed the trigger.

A few of the Grunts had been far enough back that they'd survived the initial blast and the Elite's shields had protected it. They were immediately gunned down as Jones and Carson joined Alex, adding their own arsenals to the assault. Their bodies thumped to the floor, their strange-colored blood spraying across the deckplates and bulkheads.

"Bastards," Alex muttered, spitting on the Elite.

"I hear you," Carson said, his voice low.

They searched the dead bodies, those that were still intact, and came up with a handful of plasma grenades. Alex took one, tucking it away for later. They started walking again, listening and hearing nothing in the immediate area.

As they passed through more corridors and transitional rooms, Alex took in the battered state of the _Pillar_. It looked like hell. Panels had been torn loose in the fighting and the exposed guts of the ship bled sparks. Some of the lights flickered and others were outright dead. Blood, crimson, deep purple and bright phosphorescent blue, painted the walls, the floors and even the ceilings in some cases. And the bodies.

They were everywhere.

Spent shell casings crunched underfoot as the trio of Marines stalked the silent corridors. Distantly, the sounds of combat echoed back to them.

"Do either of you have any idea where we are?" Alex asked.

"I don't," Jones said.

"Me neither," Carson replied. "I've been getting patched up and trying to get back up to snuff ever since we left Reach."

"Fantastic," Alex muttered.

"Yeah...there could be anything out there. Although I guess if the Captain's ordering an abandon ship, there must be _something_ out there to abandon to," Carson said.

"Maybe." Alex had never exactly been an optimistic kind of guy.

They soon became aware of more combat. The trio hurried forward. Alex peered in through an open door and spied a handful of Jackals being led by an Elite. They hid behind their round energy shields, forming a wall, while the Elite was further back in the room, taking cover behind a support pillar. Alex grinned as he noted it was an escape pod bay.

Unnoticed, the trio of Marines burst into the room, guns blazing. They blew away the Jackals, sending their scrawny, bird-like bodies to the floor, their shields extinguishing as they died. The Elite was quickly overwhelmed and put down.

Alex surveyed the pod bay, finding eight Marines and a handful of technicians in there with them. There were only three pods left. Around them, the _Pillar_ was trembling now. Alex thought it resembled orbital reentry.

"Shit, we really need to go, I think this thing is going to crash," Carson said.

As the survivors began making for the pods, a door across the bay opened up, admitting a trio of Elites and a clutch of Grunts and Jackals.

"Shit! Go! I'll cover you!" Carson shouted as he hurled a plasma grenade and made for cover behind a support pillar.

Alex hesitated, wanting to stay behind and stave off the sudden Covenant attack.

"I said _go_!" Carson roared. The grenade exploded.

That did it. Alex grabbed Jones and made for one of the escape pods as plasma fire rained down around him. They made it in just before the doors snapped shut and the pod was launched from its dark nest. Alex and Jones sat down in the few seats remaining and strapped in. As he looked through the window, he thought something was wrong.

He wasn't sure what. He saw some oceans, landscapes of varying types...but something was very, very wrong with them.

What?

Then the haze of fire overtook the windows as they cut into the atmosphere. Alex clung grimly to his seat.

It was going to be a wild ride.


	3. Hitting Dirt

**Chapter 03  
**_-Hitting Dirt-_

The escape pod trembled with orbital reentry.

Fire licked past the windows, turning them opaque.

Alex had buckled in and now was hoping for the best. He looked around the cabin. Four other Marines and a technician had been crammed in with him and Jones. A fifth Marine had taken up residency in the cockpit, guiding them down by the seat of their pants. All they could do was hold on tight and hope for the best.

For the moment, Alex closed his eyes and retreated into himself. There wasn't enough time and it was too noisy for any manner of conversation. He began thinking, allowing his mind to wander. All he could see for the time being was Reach.

It had been a literal hell. Just two weeks after he'd tossed a balled-up fist towards his Sergeant's jaw and they'd reprimanded him with a bump back down the ladder to the first rung, he'd been poured onto a ship and sent to Reach. They were calling for help. The Covenant were invading full force and the planet was threatened.

Alex knew about Reach. How important it was. He'd spent nearly a week fighting hard, probably harder than he had during his entire three year stretch in the UNSC Marine Corps thus far, but it still hadn't been enough. Part of him had broken then, or perhaps become more broken, because he'd been holding out, hoping against hope.

If Reach fell...well, it didn't say much about their chances of survival as a species. Alex had been born into a life where the Covenant had already been on the warpath for over a year. As he'd grown, so had the war. Years passed, and planet after planet, system after system, fell to the Covenant war machine.

It was first contact with an unknown life-form, and it had been the beginning of the end.

Alex was jolted from his thoughts as the pod hit a particularly thick pocket of turbulence. He realized the fire outside the windows had thinned out. They were about to crash. He knew that the Bumblebee escape pods had air-brakes and reverse thrusters, but at the end of the line the ground was rushing up to meet them and it was really no more than a throw of the dice whether or not anyone would survive.

"Brace yourselves!" the Marine piloting the thing yelled back.

Alex braced himself.

Then they hit dirt.

The pod smashed into the ground with all the force of a meteorite, only it didn't stop. Alex gripped his chair as the frame of the pod began to vibrate even more violently. The pod had hit at an angle and now was sliding across the ground, cutting, he imagined, a jagged furrow in the landscape, sending up runs of dirt and gravel.

The pod kept going, shedding its velocity.

Then the worst happened.

Somehow, it managed to get itself sideways and began to roll rapidly. Alex moaned and closed his eyes as his perspective shifted faster than his brain could keep up with. Someone was screaming. Someone else was vomiting.

Abruptly, Alex felt his stomach do a roll. It took him a second to realize they must have gone over a cliff or something and now were in free-fall.

He moaned sickly, fear shooting through him.

How long until they hit the ground-

* * *

Alex's eyes snapped open.

He was staring up a perfect, clear blue sky, dotted occasionally with clouds. For a long moment, he simply laid there. He was on his back and there were various pains coursing through his body, some dull throbs, others jagged pokers of white agony. None of that seemed to matter though. Because what he was seeing wasn't possible.

There was movement nearby, but it didn't sound like Covenant, so he ignored it for the moment. Alex blinked, reached up, rubbed at his eyes. The image remained.

"What...the hell is that?" he asked, his voice cracked with pain.

More movement, and suddenly Jones was standing over him, staring down.

"Oh, thank _God_, man. I thought you were in a coma or something," he said, offering a helping hand.

Alex looked at it for a moment, then accepted it and was pulled to his feet.

"You okay?" Jones asked.

Alex swayed slightly, his inner ear confused, then he blinked and looked up.

"That," he said.

"Oh...yeah, that. I don't know what's going on, but we should move," Jones replied.

Alex lingered. High up, miles and miles overhead, was more land and oceans and clouds. He slowly began to look down, following this odd strip of earth until it began spreading out, becoming wider, and eventually linked to where he was currently standing. He turned around and repeated the process in reverse, this time slowly looking up.

A ring? It was like he was standing on the inside of a titanic ring, thousands and thousands of miles long.

"Come _on_, man," Jones said.

Alex looked back to the ground. The escape pod lay smoking and ruined a few meters away. Supplies and a few bodies had popped out the back, littering the area. Jones was moving among the supplies, gathering it up, checking out the weapons. Something took over in Alex's mind, some survival instinct built up and reinforced by military training, that made him walk over and help out. He picked up an MA5B.

It was twisted, bent in the crash. He tossed it away.

"What happened?" Alex asked as he continued working.

"We went over a cliff, man. Everyone else is dead, I checked their pulses. My radio is busted, I think. But I've been in enough crash-landings, I know the Covenant are going to be on our asses sooner rather than later," Jones replied.

Alex nodded, suddenly feeling stupid. He was the former Corporal. He should know what the hell he was doing. Picking up the pace, Alex continued to sort through the chaotic spray of supplies. Most of the guns had been damaged in the crash. In the end, they wound up with a pair of M6Ds and an assault rifle between them.

"You take rifle, just give me some spare magazines for the pistol, I'm a good shot," Alex said, checking out the pistol.

The exterior was scuffed and scorched, but otherwise it was functional. After stuffing some more magazines into his pocket, he clipped the only medkit they could find to his belt. It seemed they were just about done. Just in time, too. They heard the whine of a Banshee and the deep thrumming of a Spirit dropship somewhere nearby.

"Come on, let's move," Alex said.

They moved away from the smoking pod. Alex took a moment to look around and study their environment. Behind them and to their left were cliff sheers, rising up hundreds of meters into the air. They'd come straight over the sheer. Alex shivered at the thought. He could have been dead, just as easily as the others.

To their right was another such sheer, only they were standing atop this one. The pair of Marines made their way along a narrow strip of land, perhaps a few dozen meters wide, in between the cliff and the sheer rock wall. The strip continued for perhaps a hundred meters, then met another rock face. Alex could just see a break in the wall to their left, a big one, that no doubt would lead them to a valley. He hoped there was refuge somewhere nearby.

He kept looking around. A pair of creeks cut across the landscape, creating waterfalls from above. Collections of trees and large boulders dotted the landscape, which, for the most part, was covered with a deep, green grass.

The pair splashed across one of the creeks. Alex spied a cave up ahead, to the left. There was no way they'd make it to the valley in time.

"There," he said, pointing to the cave.

Jones nodded and the men hurried up, the sound of Covenant vehicles getting louder. A moment later they'd made it inside, well back in the shadows. The cave was open enough to give them a view of the area but deep enough to hide them.

Alex remained still, watching as a Banshee appeared above the cliff sheer they'd gone sailing over not too long ago. Right behind it, coming in low and fast, was a Spirit. It came to hover over the smoking pod and began to lower itself towards the ground. The Banshee pressed on, sailing smoothly, almost idly, over the landscape.

The pair of Marines remained frozen. Alex wished vainly for a sniper rifle as the Spirit settled into place, opened its side and disgorged a clutch of Covenant. He spied a pair of Elites and at least a half-dozen Grunts.

They began picking over the crash site. Alex turned his attention to the Banshee, which kept on going. He stood there and considered it for a moment. Jones bristled beside him, obviously eager for activity.

"Don't move," Alex muttered for the moment, irritation running through him like a low-level electrical current.

Jones started to say something, but fell silent. Again, Alex was technically outranked, but he'd learned a lot in his three years, and with his temperament to question orders and do things his own way, earning the rank of Corporal had been one constant, uphill struggle. He was making for Sergeant when he'd been tripped back down the ladder.

"Okay," he said quietly. "We're heading out, sticking to the wall. Low and fast. If that Banshee catches sight of us, we book it."

"Got it," Jones replied.

They left the cave. Alex listened intently, filtering out the ambient noise of the area around them. He disregarded the bubbling of the creek, the soft whispering of the winds, the distant bird calls. All he had ears for was the Banshee and the familiar whine of its engine. How many times had he heard that call? And how that damned machine had come to resemble its namesake. When there were Banshees nearby, chances were, someone was going to die.

They started out, sticking close to the rock wall, hiding in its shadows. Occasionally, Alex's mind would try and focus on the fact that they were apparently walking on the surface of the interior of a giant ring, like someone had inverted a planet and wrapped it around the inside band of God's own wedding ring, but he forced himself to stay focused. His eyes stayed glued to that Banshee, filtering out everything else.

It had settled into a circular, automated flight pattern, like a bird lazily drifting in an updraft. They were within twenty meters of the thing. Alex ran some quick mental calculations and figured that they would most likely be seen about three meters ahead of where they currently were, as it would bring them closest to the vehicle.

If they could just get past that point...

He kept going, keeping his movement slow and steady and calm. Jones was behind him, breathing heavily. Alex wanted to tell him to keep it together, but knew that the guy was more thrilled than he was afraid.

They reached the apex of exposure. The Banshee continued to circle. Behind him, Alex heard the occasional echo of an Elite snapping an order. If it weren't for the Covenant and the ruined pod, this might have been a pretty serene place. Alex let out his breath in a long, smooth sigh as they passed beyond the closest point of contact with the Banshee and kept going. It didn't mean they were out of the fire, but if they'd come this far without being seen, then it greatly increased their chances of getting away without any trouble.

They pressed on and after another few nerve-wracking minutes, Alex finally felt safe enough to relax slightly. They were a dozen meters from the end of the rock wall they were hugging. They would go down into the valley that was likely there and then...what? He supposed they should patch themselves up – he could feel a dozen or so cuts and scrapes untended to – and maybe try to get into contact with someone.

As they reached the end of the wall, Alex felt a small bit of relief flow through him. There _was_ a valley. It descended several hundred meters away and-

"What the hell is _that_?" Jones asked.

What appeared to be a ball of pure, white energy pulsed up into the sky abruptly, shooting up into the endless blue until it disappeared from sight. Alex frowned and traced the pulse to its point of origin. About halfway down the valley he spied some kind of structure that glinted dully in the sunlight. He opened his mouth to respond, then he saw it.

Figures, moving atop the structure.

And gunfire.

Survivors.

"Come on, let's go!"


	4. Emerald Hills

**Chapter 04  
**_-Emerald Hills-_

The valley stretched hundreds of meters away from Alex. He had a great view of the landscape as he hurried down it with Jones at his side. Another pulse of pure white energy shot up into the sky as they headed for the skirmish. What _was_ that thing? He studied the structure as they ran for it, moving among the boulders and small collections of trees. It appeared to be a large, silver rectangle with a ramp curving up one side and a giant tuning fork sticking out of the top. Which was where the pulses seemed to be originating from.

What looked like half a dozen, maybe more, Marines had taken refuge atop the structure. They hid behind silver blocks placed at even intervals along the top, almost making it resemble the top of a castle. Distributed along the bottom, hiding among rocks and trees, were at least twice their number in Covenant troops.

Plasma flared into the skies, lead rained down from above.

"Okay, we keep this simple," Alex said as they kept going, still several dozen meters away from the firefight. "Pistols only, pick them off from a distance."

"Where's the fun in that?" Jones complained.

"Who cares? Focus up, those guys are relying on us not to screw up. In case you've forgotten, alive human good, dead human bad," Alex replied.

Jones snorted but shut up. He let his rifle hang by its sling. They kept going, slowing down as they came within a dozen meters of the Covenant. Alex saw a trio of Elites and a large peppering of Grunts and Jackals, all focusing fire on the top of the structure. The pair of Marines came to a halt behind a boulder.

"You have a grenade on you?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, just the one, though," Jones replied.

Alex sighed. "Fine, toss it at those two Elites squatting ahead of us. As soon as you toss it, start capping off as many Grunts and Jackals as you can manage. Got it?"

Jones nodded. "Got it."

He pulled out the grenade, primed it and tossed it. They stepped out from behind the boulder, one on either side, and raised their pistols. Alex zeroed his 2x digital zoom on the back of the head of a Grunt and snapped off a shot before the grenade had even touched the ground. He shifted his sights, spied a Jackal with its back to him and fired once more. Half of its skull was torn away in a plume of dark, purple gore.

The grenade landed and exploded almost simultaneously.

Alex couldn't tell, but he thought that one, possibly _both_ of the Elites had been killed in the blast. He sighted a second Grunt and blew its head off. The haze began to clear. He could hear Jones firing off round after round as well. Another Jackal collapsed, headless, as the dirt in the air finally settled. Alex spied one Elite body.

The other crouched, wounded badly.

It looked back at Alex as he aimed for its oddly-shaped head. Their eyes met, then he squeezed the trigger, punching an ugly, huge hole right through its left eye. The Elite collapsed bonelessly to the ground, purple blood spraying the rock it had been using for cover. Alex allowed himself a small grin and continued going.

As it became obvious that a third party had entered the fray, and successfully killed two of their commanding officers, the Covenant began to panic. The Grunts began fleeing, screaming in their high-pitched voices. The Jackals tried to rally them, but were quickly cut down. The final Elite did what it could to salvage the situation, but soon its shields were overloaded and it became heavy with lead. Alex emptied his magazine into alien flesh.

"All clear!" someone called after a long moment of silence had descended across the battlefield.

Alex emerged from his hiding space with Jones. He studied the Covenant corpses that littered the landscape and felt a curious lack of emotion. Frowning, he began making his way towards the ramp, where the Marines were coming down to meet him and salvage supplies from the dead. Normally, Alex would have felt at least some thrill or dark vengeance from murdering all these alien bastards. Instead, he felt hollow, approaching numb.

Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he thought he had.

"Glad you showed up when you did," one of the Marines said. He approached them as everyone else split up, picking through the remains.

"How many are you?" Alex asked.

"Seven. Fire Squad November. I'm Sergeant Wallace," the man replied. He glanced at their name-tags and frowned. "I could buy a stunt like that from a Corporal, maybe a Lance, but not a Private and a PFC."

Alex sighed. "Former Corporal, long story."

"Uh-huh. Well, I don't care. I'm just glad to have another good gun, because this situation isn't even close to over. Come up top with me, I've got a job for you, Steele."

Alex and Jones followed him back across the battlefield to the ramp. They moved up it. Alex stared at the metal. It was polished and silver, though it didn't shine as brightly in the sunshine as he thought it would, nor was it as slick as it should have been. His feet had no problem finding traction on the smooth surface.

The trio crested the top of the ramp, having to make a short, left turn, as it dug into the surface of the structure. Alex moved to the far side, staring out over the landscape, now given a great view of the area. Even he had to admit it was beautiful, almost breathtaking. The valley continued on for quite a way, rolling gently in hills. Several creeks and ponds glittered in the sunshine, cutting across the land. Trees clustered in shady copses.

"Do you have any information on where we are?" Alex asked, frowning, staring up at a sun that shouldn't be as bright as it was.

"Nothing yet, Private," Wallace said.

Alex realized he was probably being more informal than he should have been. He turned around and gave his full attention to the Sergeant, ignoring the dull throb that was working its way back up into a headache.

"Three pods crashed in this valley, as far as I can tell. I'm guessing that you two came from one of them?" he asked.

"Yes, Sergeant," Alex replied.

"Good. And me and my men came from the second. That just leaves the third, further down the way. I saw a Spirit fly over us not too long ago, during the battle. It's down there now, flaring plasma. Obviously someone's still alive," Wallace explained.

Alex heard footfalls behind him. He turned and spied the rest of the men and women coming up the ramp with armfuls of Covenant gear, which they began laying out on the ground, adding to a small pile of human weapons, no doubt salvage from their own escape pod. Wallace whistled and two of them broke away, approaching the group.

"Private Steele, PFC Jones, meet your new best friends. Lance Corporal Lee and Private Perez...Steele's in charge," Wallace said.

"What?!" Lee demanded.

"Oh, come on, are you really going to do that to me?" Alex asked.

Wallace spun on them, his gaze baleful. "There are men _dying_ out there, and you want to sit here and argue with me!?"

Alex shut up, turned and moved over to the weapons pile. He appropriated an assault rifle and some more ammo. Still no grenades. After Jones, Lee and Perez geared up, the quartet moved over to the opposite ramp and hustled down it. They hit dirt and started moving, hurrying across the green landscape, knowing that lives rested in their hands.

Alex studied his two new crewmates. Lance Corporal Lee was tall, thin and beautiful, in that way that hardened Marine chicks were. There was a fire in her eyes, especially when she tossed him a nasty glance. Her skin was pale, her hair hidden insider her helmet. Perez seemed small and slight, a man made for speed rather than strength. His movements were sharp and not always coordinated. Definitely a guy straight out of Basic.

"I don't want to cause problems, you can take command," Alex said when they were farther away from the structure.

"No," Lee said bluntly. "Wallace may be kind of an asshole, but he's not an idiot and he's not blatantly sadistic. If he put you in charge, it was for a reason."

"I...well, okay. I've got three years experience in the field," Alex said, although he wasn't sure who he was trying to reassure.

Lee frowned, glancing sidelong at him. "No one stays a Private after three years and lives to tell about it."

"I socked my Sergeant in the jaw," Alex said.

Lee laughed. "Oh, that's rich. What, did he tell you to clean out the head one too many times? Did he really have it coming?"

"I think so. He tried to make me kill some civilians."

Everyone fell silent. All that came to them were bird-calls and the sounds of conflict, which were louder now. Lee seemed like she wanted to press further, pry the information out of him, but they were approaching the battlefield.

The escape pod had crashed at the bottom of a hill. Alex and the others crested the hill from their side and stared down at the situation. A handful of Marines were hidden behind the wrecked remains of the smoking pod. An Elite and a squad of Grunts were firing at them, hidden behind trees and rocks, while the Spirit hovered overhead.

For a moment, Alex wondered why the Spirit didn't simply reposition itself and end the battle. Then he realized the truth: the Covenant saw this as a game. The Marines were so screwed that the Covenant figured they could draw it out.

They would pay dearly for their hubris.

"So, what's the plan, _boss_?" Lee asked.

Alex frowned, studying the situation. They could take out all the ground-based Covenant pretty easily. But that Spirit...it just had the one cannon. Alex considered it for a long moment, weighing the odds of survival. Finally, he nodded to himself.

"Give me a combat knife," he said.

Perez passed him one. Alex let his rifle hang by its sling and pulled out his pistol. He felt like an action hero, knife in one hand, pistol in the other.

"Cover me. Kill all the Grunts. I'll handle the Elite and the Spirit," he said.

Lee gaped. "What? You can't possibly-"

But he was already gone. He heard a sharp curse as he began sprinting down the hill, having only eyes for the Elite. Around him, he heard gunfire open up. Alex grinned madly as he aimed the pistol and began opening fire. The Elite let out a startled shout as bullets began bouncing off its shields. All around it, Grunts died.

The Elite tried to take aim, but stumbled as each explosive round slammed into it. As Alex came within a few meters of it, its shields collapsed. He dropped his pistol, held his knife high overhead with both hands and screamed as he leaped into the air. The Elite seemed absolutely stunned by this move. It was just enough time.

Alex drove the tip of the blade directly into its forehead and heard a _crack_ as it penetrated the skull-plate, puncturing the brain and killing the Elite instantly. He felt warm blood splash his face and crashed to the ground with the body.

A sound came to him. Plasma fire, chewing up the ground as it raked across the landscape from above, coming for him.

The Spirit.

He hadn't forgotten it. Alex snatched a satchel of plasma grenades attached to the Elite's belt and scrambled to his feet. Stumbling out of the way of the plasma bolts, feeling their immense heat against his exposed skin, Alex activated one of the grenades and hurled it. The satchel flew through the air and attached to the plasma cannon at the base of the Spirit. There was a brief pause, then an explosion tore through the air.

Followed by another, and another, and another...

By the time the grenades finished, the cannon was nothing more than sparking, twisted, blackened metal. The Spirit hovered for a few seconds longer, then decided to cut its losses, turned and began flying away.

A general cheer went up as the survivors and his crew emerged from their hiding places. Alex let out his breath in a long, shuddering sigh, the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins slowly dissipating. He was shaky from the comedown, laughing nervously. So maybe Jones had a point, maybe it _should_ be fun.

"Holy _shit_, that was _awesome_!" Jones cried, rushing down the hill and clapping him on the back.

"And really stupid," Lee said, but not without a bit of admiration.

Alex offered an easy shrug. "Just got lucky."

The surviving Marines, Alex counted four of them, emerged from their cover. They all approached laughing and cheering.

"I don't think I've _ever_ seen something like that before, at least not from anyone who wasn't an ODST or a Spartan," one of them said, slapping him on the back.

"Okay, enough bullshitting. Salvage what you can and let's _go_!" Lee called.

Alex decided she was probably right and walked over to the Elite he'd killed and began frisking the corpse. The Marines spread out, searching the area. Perez walked over, a big smile on his face, as Alex shifted to a pair of Grunt corpses. He knelt and began searching with Alex, hunting for those elusive plasma grenades.

"How did you _do_ that?" he asked, something like wonder in his voice.

Alex shrugged. "Just...good reflexes, I guess. I took a look at the situation and figured out what would end it the quickest."

"You coulda _died_, man."

"Everybody gets to do it," Alex replied.

Perez didn't seem to know what to say to that. They finished their search and headed back up the hill. Alex found himself thinking about his dark sentiment as they headed back through the valley to the structure.

He'd felt exhilaration when he'd charged that Elite. Genuine joy. This was a new development. Alex had gone through a lot of phases in his career. He'd been terrified, he'd been stupid and drunk on his own combat prowess, then he'd settled into that 'honor and duty' bullshit that a lot of Marines did. Finally, a kind of apathy had settled in, a strange lassitude that slipped into his psyche and robbed him of his emotions.

The battle on Reach had tested him, brought him back to life, however briefly, because of how damned difficult it was. Something must have changed then, and perhaps been changed further in the resulting coma. Did he have some kind of brain damage? Or was this just the natural progression of his own emotions?

Alex suppressed a sigh. All he could figure out now was that he only really felt good when he was taking some kind of stupid risk, and that wasn't exactly the best behavior for someone in his line of work. Or maybe it was...people that risked things often tended to actually get shit done. Just look at the ODSTs and the Spartans.

Of course, the Spartans were all dead now, or so he had heard.

But what did he want? He supposed it was an ancient question. To live short but spectacularly or long and prudently?

"Is that a dropship?" Perez asked.

Alex listened, then nodded as he heard it. The sounds of a Pelican. Presumably their ride was on the way. He supposed the question was one that he would have to think about some more and delay for as long as possible.

As they made their final approach on the structure, a Pelican appeared from over one of the cliff walls and moved to pick them up.


	5. Outpost Delta

**Chapter 05  
**_-Outpost Delta-_

They'd been riding for nearly half an hour now. Alex had spent most of it staring out the narrow windows at the landscape. Much of it appeared to be the same as what he had seen so far: valleys, lush fields, trees, rivers, lakes. The fact that the land curved up and away, far overhead, failed to stop screwing with his perspective and his head.

"So," Alex said. "Does anyone know where the hell this thing is we're on?"

"Nothing yet. Just some weird, big ring in space. We jumped blind," Wallace replied. He was smoking a cigar now.

Alex felt a familiar urge rippling through him, starting slow but building. He'd picked up smoking two years ago. His favorite brand came out of Japan: Yeheyuans. He hadn't even had time to consider taking a smoke break, but now that the thought had entered his mind, he found it difficult to think of much else.

"What about the _Autumn_?" Jones asked quietly.

"Last I heard, she was going down," Wallace replied. He blew a formless smoke cloud.

Alex turned away from the crew, shifting his gaze back to the windows. The pilot of the Pelican had told them they were going somewhere called Outpost Delta. If Alex had been put in charge (a genuine joke), he would be having everyone gather. There had been dozens, hundreds of escape pods, Pelicans and Longswords fleeing the _Pillar of Autumn_ as it burned through the curious atmosphere of wherever they were.

Like rats from a sinking ship, or fleas from a dying rodent.

They'd be all over the place. Chances were, there was one large command structure where the Captain, the el-tees, the Brass would be gathering out, with smaller, makeshift outposts scattered across the landscape. They would be convenient gathering points. Outpost Delta must just be the nearest node for survivors to run to.

The Pelican began to slow down and descend, age-old signs that it was preparing to land. Alex tried to get a look through the front of the ship, staring down the central lane of the passenger bay, into the cockpit, but couldn't. He sat back and began massaging his temples. The pain meds were definitely worn thin, maybe gone.

His head ached like a rotten tooth. He wondered, vaguely worried, if there was any serious damage, permanent maybe. Pushing yourself hard, like going into combat, was typically a bad idea when coming out of a coma.

Not as though he'd had any real choice.

The Pelican settled down and the engines began to die, bathing them in silence. Alex unhooked his belt and stood up, popping his neck, trying to relieve some tension. All it did was sent white lances of pain into his skull. The back ramp began to lower, letting in sunlight. Alex moved down it, letting his rifle hang by its sling.

They had landed on a roughly flat patch of land next to another pair of structures similar to the one Alex had just left. They were large and silver, gleaming dully in the light. Dozens of men and women, Marines and technicians in green Ballistics armor and blue or orange or red jumpsuits scurried about. They moved atop the structures, in between them on the ground, some were even going into them via doors built into the side.

The mystery just grew. Alex wondered what was inside.

"Now what?" he asked, looking at Wallace as the Sergeant and the others disembarked from the Pelican.

Wallace shrugged. "Go grab some food. A nap."

Alex decided it sounded like a plan. As he broke away from the group, making for one of the two structures, Jones fell in beside him. He found himself wondering about what was going to happen to the two of them. Alex wasn't part of any particular Fire Team as far as he could recall. And he had no idea about Jones. He was at a loose end.

"You seem gloomy," Jones said suddenly.

Alex chuckled. "Well, my life hasn't exactly been the greatest life."

"I don't think anyone's has just recently. The Covenant tend to screw with a lot of people. I wonder what percentage of people have lost someone to the Covenant. It's gotta be pretty high. At least over fifty," Jones said.

"What a charming train of thought," Alex replied.

They came to one of the doors, carved right into the side of one of the silver structures. There was a pad of what appeared to be light being projected from the wall at hand-height next to the door. Alex moved to study it, but when he came close enough, the door split into thirds and disappeared into the wall.

"Huh," he murmured.

"Man, this is _weird_," Jones said.

Alex spent a moment studying the light-pad. It was definitely just light. There were a few buttons to be pressed with symbols on them he couldn't understand. For a moment, he was tempted to press some of them experimentally, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't want to lock the building down or initiate some kind of self-destruct.

Alex and Jones went in through the door, coming to a small antechamber. There was only one way to go: an open doorway that immediately led to a ramp descending into the earth. They moved down the narrow metal tunnel, passing a few technicians along the way. The tunnel was lit by some kind of ambient, amber glow.

Before long, they came to an underground chamber that was full to bursting with human life. The area seemed to be one large, open room and appeared to have been divided up. In one corner, a makeshift messhall had been established on a handful of foldout tables and chairs. Another corner was occupied by a series of bedrolls, half of them occupied by sleeping soldiers or techs. Another seemed to be an infirmary.

Alex's head throbbed again.

"I need to grab some painkillers," he said.

"Okay, meet me over by the food. We can eat and you can tell me all about your crappy life," Jones said happily.

Alex moved through the shifting crowd of men and women, wondering about his future. It was obvious that he was going to be part of the effort to survive here on this strange ringworld. The Covenant were here in force and the Marines were on the run, scattered and wounded. They were outnumbered and outgunned.

They were probably all going to die.

The infirmary was busy, with over a dozen wounded hanging around. There was a line. Alex stood, waiting, hoping to just grab his painkillers and be gone. He wanted food, drink and sleep. He really wanted a smoke, but that could wait. He tried to think more about this whole situation, but his head hurt too much.

He'd be going back out into combat soon enough, anyway. The line shuffled forward. When it came his turn, the medic who looked at him was haggard and his eyes were bloodshot. He frowned as he saw there was nothing obviously wrong with Alex.

"What do you want?"

"Painkillers."

"Why?"

"I was in a coma from getting the shit knocked out of my head while we were on our way out from Reach. Just got out of it. My head's killing me," Alex replied.

The medic frowned. "Hell...that's probably more than a headache. You can't just go from coma to combat."

"Tell me about it."

The medic seemed to consider something for a moment. "Wait here."

He turned and went back to the stash of medical supplies. Alex waited, now more worried than he was before about any serious damage. Did he have a concussion? It didn't seem likely, he'd been lying in an infirmary for...hours? Days? How long had they been in transit? Either way, something should have shown up.

Unless he gained a new injury during the crash.

The medic returned. "Here." He shoved four pills into Alex's hand. "Take these. They should tide you over for now...but come and see me if you start getting dizzy or nauseous, got it?"

"Got it, doc," Alex replied.

He turned and left, dry-swallowing the pills one by one until they were gone. Alex felt his stomach grumble and turned, heading back through the crowd. Everyone seemed to be carrying everything: supplies, weapons, crates, wounded.

Food wasn't much beyond an MRE and a canteen of water. Alex grabbed one of each and sat down next to Jones, who had opted to sit on the floor, back to the wall, as all the tables were currently occupied by hungry survivors.

"So, about that past," Jones said.

"Why do you care so much?" Alex replied, tearing into his MRE.

"I'm curious by nature," Jones said with a shrug.

Alex took a swig from his canteen. At least the water didn't taste like crap.

"How about we settle on 'none of your business'?"

"Fine. What about your rank? You said your Sergeant made you try to kill some civvies. That doesn't sound right," Jones said.

Alex sighed. "Stop paying attention to me when I talk."

"Spill it," Jones demanded.

"My squad was heading into a city that had been taken over by the Covenant. Our objective was a building thought to hold a Prophet. We were setting up for a MAC cannon overhead to hit it. They needed the target lazed. We were setting up, I was the guy holding the target locator. Then we got word that civilians were being held inside. Sergeant told me to go ahead anyway. I wanted to wait. The intel we'd gotten had been shaky anyway. No one was sure if the Prophet was in there. I didn't think a 'maybe' was good enough to throw away thirty civilian lives. My Sergeant disagreed. I popped him one, then the other guys took me down and he set the laze himself. The building went down. Everyone died," Alex said, his voice lowering the more he spoke.

"And the Prophet?" Jones asked quietly.

"He wasn't even in there."

"Man...that really sucks," Jones said after a long, contemplative moment.

"Yeah. I got busted back down to Private and not much later shipped to Reach," Alex murmured.

They finished eating in silence. Alex felt lethargy tugging at him. He tried to think more on the current situation: the strange ringworld; the Covenant; where he would fit in. But his thoughts kept drifting away, slipping through his mental grasp the more he tried to hold on to them. He needed sleep, even if only for a few hours.

He stood. "I'm going for a nap."

Jones said something, but Alex didn't catch it, too tired, too focused on the collection of mats in the far corner. He made his way through the shifting crowd, his eyes locked on an unoccupied bedroll. He reached it and laid down without getting out of his armor.

Alex was asleep within seconds.

* * *

Alex gasped awake, drenched in sweat, his head swimming.

Uncomfortable memories jostled in his mind's eye, caught in a maelstrom of dark emotions. He sat up, his hands trembling slightly, the urge for a cigarette stronger than ever. He looked around as he crawled to his feet.

The place was still abuzz with activity. Checking his chronometer, he was surprised to see that three hours had passed. It felt like he'd just laid his weary head down minutes ago. Alex swayed slightly as he moved through the crowd. He found the ramp leading up to the surface and moved up it, coming to the door at the top.

When he stepped outside, it was getting dark, heading through twilight, making for midnight. The air was cool and comfortable. Alex relished it. He looked around, hunting feverishly for someone who might be smoking. Finally, he located a tech standing under a tree, pulling on a cig that burned an orange hole in the gloom.

"Hey," he said, approaching. "Spare one?"

"Sure," the tech replied, killing his own cig and crushing it underfoot.

He fished out a pack and extracted two slim cigarettes from it, passing them off to Alex. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then gave him a disposable lighter.

"Thanks," Alex said, accepting them.

He reached into his pocket, watching the tech go back to the base and pocketed one the smokes, the lit up the other.

An immense relief washed over him as he took his first pull, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He blew it all out in a formless blue cloud, watched it dissipate in the night air. For a few moments, Alex did nothing but smoke. By the time he felt his mind coming back to him, half the cigarette was gone. Then he noticed someone coming towards him.

"Hey." It was Jones.

Alex nodded. "What's happening?"

"Wallace wants us. I guess he decided we're worth inducting into his fire squad. And we've got a job. Looks like someone finally got their shit together," Jones replied.

Alex nodded. He took a deep pull on the cig, put it out on his boot heel and pocketed what was left. He followed Jones across the darkening outpost.


End file.
